The Waterfall Interlude
by Fluffy Nabs
Summary: During the Avalon journey, Goliath happens upon Elisa while she bathes in a small waterfall. Tensions rise, but don't snap. Rated M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Avalon journeys, Philippine Islands**

**Author's Note: Just a short little scene that popped into my head and had to be written. One-shot.**

A mudslide had almost wiped out a village, but thanks to Elisa, Goliath, Angela, and Bronx, everyone had lived. And now it was time to clean up a bit. The grateful villagers had directed them to a clear stream with several small waterfalls that made ideal outdoor bathing facilities.

Elisa and Angela had separated from Goliath and Bronx to maintain their modesty, but Angela had finished washing much sooner than Elisa had. The New York detective simply had more clothing. "These shoes are going to take hours to dry," she grumbled, finally getting the last of the mud off and setting them on a flat rock next to her socks.

Angela finished donning her damp tunic and grinned at her. "You finish up. I'll find Father and Bronx and get a fire started," she said. Elisa nodded and ran her fingers through her hair to check for mud. Finding some still there, she waded under the small waterfall.

"Ahhh," she sighed, letting the water drench her. The weather on this island was thoroughly hot and muggy, and being under the cool, clear water was a relief. She ran her hands through her hair again, closed her eyes, and simply lost herself in the moment, relishing being clean. There weren't too many opportunities for a shower on their travels.

A rustling caught her attention even over the sound of the little waterfall, and she opened her eyes, expecting to see Angela again. Instead, it was Goliath. He looked as if he had just stepped out of the brush and been caught unawares by her presence. He was clearly surprised to see her – his eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open.

Elise froze in place with her hands still in her hair. She was quite naked, and Goliath was looking at her. The breath left her lungs in a whoosh…

…the look of shock on his face was replaced by something more primal and lusty, his eyes skimmed down from her face, his tongue slid out to wet his lips…

…Elise inhaled again, felt her chest heave, felt the blood rising in her cheeks, felt the peaks of her breasts tighten in anticipation of something that she was rather terrified to contemplate…

…and he stepped forward, just one step, his eyes slowly travelling from where her knees emerged from the water, up the lithe muscles of her thighs, the dark triangle between them, the flat muscles of her stomach and her tiny waist, the soft round breasts tipped with cinnamon nipples, to her face. His gaze lingered on her lips for a few seconds before finally meeting hers. "Elisa," he breathed, his voice barely loud enough for her to hear and full of yearning, a deep bass rumble that she could almost feel in her bones…

… and Elisa crossed her hands over her chest and sat down in the water, hiding her nakedness. She shivered, dropped her eyes from his.

Another rustle, and she flicked her eyes up to see him turn from her, his face grim. He caped his wings as he turned, but she caught a glimpse of the physical evidence for just how much the sight of her had affected him. As he had affected her. How could she not notice the breadth of this shoulders, the strength of his arms, the gentleness of his eyes? How could she not see the muscles of his wide chest and taut stomach, feel the power in his wings, hear the authority in his voice? This moment was only the latest peak in an ever-building crescendo of desire which she had denied night after night. A shuddering breath escaped her. She was too warm, even with the torrent of water falling over her shoulders and hair. But what he wanted from her… what she wanted to give him… impossible.

"I… apologize," Goliath rumbled. There was a long, awkward pause.

"Don't worry about it," Elise replied faintly.

"Have you seen Angela?" he asks, keeping his back firmly toward her.

"She went to find you and Bronx and build a fire." She watched his back, tried to imagine the expression on his face, and wanted to smooth the tension from his shoulders with her own hands. But she stayed where she was.

"I see," Goliath answered. "Bronx ran off. Perhaps they found one another. I will… go search for them."

He turned his head, just enough for her to see his cheekbones, before stopping himself and heading deeper into the forest.


	2. Chapter 2

After Hunter's Moon

When he awoke the next morning, Goliath could still feel the warmth of her lips against his own, the slight weigh of her against his chest, the press of her arms around his neck. She was not there, so he left the others to guard the castle and flew alone to her apartment.

He arrived to find a note upon her balcony window.

_Goliath,_

_I will be back soon._

_Elisa_

And so he let himself in to wait. Cagney greeted him by twining around his ankles a few times until Goliath picked him up and gave him a gentle scratch behind the ear. He rumbled a soft growl in response to the cat's purr, which seemed to please Cagney enough to knead his forearm.

With the cat still in his arms, Goliath paced the living room a few times, glancing around at the familiar furniture, the pictures, the technological accoutrements of a modern single woman. Something tickled his sense of smell after a moment, and he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Elisa's scent, of course, permeated the entire apartment. It surrounded him like a soft blanket. But there was something, some compelling layer atop the normal scents that drew him down the small hallway. To one side, doors to a closet, the laundry nook, and the bathroom, and to the other, the door to the bedroom.

It was standing open a few inches, and Goliath nudged it, unable to stop himself. He put the cat down.

The smell of her arousal was strongest in here, and unmistakable, and mesmerizing. Of course he had smelled it before – one did not spend months on a small boat with a woman and not become familiar with her smells. Secretly, he imagined she smelled like sun-warmed bread and oysters. Mouth-watering.

The bed was neatly made, everything tidy, and all was dark, covered by shadows. It wasn't too dim for Goliath to see, however, nor difficult at all for him to imagine her lying there. He stayed in the door, eyes slightly aglow as he permitted himself the indulgence of fantasy.

He wondered if she would sleep in the nude. His memory of the one time he'd seen her like that was easy to recall – so many times had he brought them to mind, unbidden occasionally, usually welcome. He thought of her in repose upon the soft mattress, amidst rumpled bedclothes, with her dark hair spread out beneath her. He imagined those slender hands smoothing their way slowly across her warm brown skin, stopping to tease cinnamon-colored nipples, and then dipping into ebon curls.

What sounds would she make? Sighs and gasps, murmurs of pleasure? She would spread her legs while her fingers worked between them. She would toss her head and arch her back. Sweat would form across her skin, gather in the hollow of her throat.

Goliath imagined himself joining her there. He would kneel between her wide-spread knees and replace her fingers with his lips and his tongue. He would inhale this intoxicating perfume and taste her wetness, drawing more from her depths as he drove her pleasure to new heights. And when her thighs shook with desire, when her breathing was panting and labored, when she begged for the feel of him inside of her, he would kiss and nibble his way up her body and slip into her hot, tight, slick sheath.

Gentle, at first. So very gentle, would be their love-making. He'd wrap her in his arms and wings, press kisses to her brow, whisper his devotion into her ear. She'd gasp and moan, cling to him, press her thighs against his hips. Her heels would drum against his buttocks, the base of his tail. She would find and caress the sweet spot between his wings.

And the pace would increase, faster and harder, inevitably mounting to the unbearably sweet and exquisite torture of climax. She would scream his name in love and pleasure, he would cry out, "Elisa, mine!" It would be better than anything.

And then he would hold her close, reveling in her small, shapely form, and she'd curl into him, and they'd talk of little things, and of hopes and aspirations. He would comb his fingers through her hair, and she would kiss his neck.

The sound of her familiar tread in the hallway outside came to him and he hastily pulled the door almost-closed again before retreating back into her living room. He was standing by the couch with his wings caped to hide his arousal when she opened the front door.

"Goliath," she said, grinning up at him.

He lost himself in her dark eyes, and smiled back down at her. "Hello, Elisa."


End file.
